


Loosing Who You Are

by silvermoongirl10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Romance, Set three years after Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermoongirl10/pseuds/silvermoongirl10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been three years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Dean and Seamus are living together and are happy. Until Seamus starts loosing sleep from two months of nightmares from that terrifying seventh year. Dean wants to help, but Seamus isn't talking to him, wanting to protect Dean from the horrors that he faced that year. Will Seamus ever talk to Dean about the horrors he faced?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is only my second story for Seamus and Dean, but my first slash fic ever. I normally avoid stories with relationships as I feel that I write them badly. This could be seen as a sequel to my other Dean and Seamus fic, Days feel like Years, but you don't need to have read that first. Again, I'm afraid I couldn't write Seamus' accent so its bog standard again. Thanks for taking the time to read this!

In a quiet office stacked with files, the lone figure at the desk sighed and then rested his head on his arms on the desk. It had been a long and tiring day of treating patient after patient and soothing worried friends and family. He had only five minutes left until he could go home. _And start this madness all over again tomorrow_ , he noted tiredly.

Lost in his thoughts, Seamus jumped when the clock in his office chimed six o’clock. He had been called in early that day after an accident caused an influx of patients, he had been run ragged all day he couldn’t even remember what the accident had been. Exhaustedly he got to his feet and collected his bag, deciding to not take any paperwork home that night, he knew he wouldn’t be able to face it. He dragged his feet over to the fireplace and stepping into the grate, he used the last of his energy to clearly call out his address. As grates passed before him in a blink, he staggered out of the fireplace in his and his boyfriend’s flat.

There were the sounds of clanking saucepans coming from the kitchen, and Seamus attempted to make his way to the kitchen, but instead his left foot hit the coffee table causing him to stumble. Luckily he landed on the sofa. The clanking in the kitchen stopped, and then a voice called out, “Shay is that you?”

Seamus, with his eyes closed, groaned in answer, too tired even to speak. He heard the sounds of hasty footsteps approaching, and then soft, gentle hands were rubbing the soot off his face. He flickered his eyes open to find himself looking down into calm, soft brown eyes.

“Thought you hated to Floo home because of the soot,” stated Dean with one eyebrow raised. He continued to rub the soot on Seamus’ face, taking in the dishevelled appearance in front of him, from his crouch on the floor.

“Too tired to apperate, was rushed off my feet today. Might have ended up anywhere in the country. Thought it safer to Floo.” Murmured Seamus, his eyes flickering closed by the soothing touch of Dean’s hands on his face.

Dean smiled, and then pulled himself up onto the sofa next to Seamus, he gently shook his partner. “Hey, you can’t fall asleep yet. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Seamus opened one eye. “As much as I adore your cooking, don’t think I’m able to do anything but sleep.”

Frowning Dean pulled Seamus against his chest and softly asked, “What time did you get called in? It had to be early, I don’t even recall you leaving.”

“Erm…about four I think,” responded Seamus with a yawn.

“Geez. That’s a twelve hour day!” exclaimed Dean, knowing now, why his boyfriend was so tired. He was just glad tomorrow was Friday and then Seamus had that weekend off. Seamus just hummed in agreement, his eyes now fully closed again. Dean smiled fondly, while it had taken some getting used to Seamus’ different shifts, day or night, and weekends possibly being in the middle of the week. Dean was thankful that by choosing a career in art, he was mostly home and could spend Seamus’ time off with his boyfriend. To begin with they had just been best mates hanging out, but a year ago that changed, for the better in Dean’s opinion. He looked back down at Seamus, who had been at St. Mungo’s for two years now; it was strange to think that just three years ago he went through ten months in hiding not knowing if he’d ever see the Irishman again.

Dean gently pushed Seamus to the side and stood up, Seamus groaned in protest. “You’re comfy,” his eyes still closed, he burrowed into the pillows.

“I’ll just get dinner, and then you can sleep. You’re not going to bed on an empty stomach.” Commented Dean, he ran his fingers through Seamus’ sandy hair and then he wandered back into the kitchen. Not five minutes later he returned to find Seamus softly snoring. He placed the dinner plates on the coffee table and crouched in front of Seamus. He hated to wake the Irishman, but going off what his boyfriend’s day had been like, he doubted Seamus had had much chance to eat. Usually they ate at the kitchen table, but Dean figured he wouldn’t get Seamus there awake.

He reached up and stroked Seamus’ cheek. “Come on Shay, wakey, wakey.”

Seamus groaned and tried to twist away from the hand waking him up. Choosing a different tactic, Dean took hold of Seamus’ dinner and wafted the plate of sweet smelling Shepard’s Pie under Seamus’ nose. A pair of bleary, blue eyes looked up at him.

“Sorry for waking you, but you need to eat,” said Dean handing Seamus his dinner and cutlery.

Seamus took the offered items, and sitting up straighter began to dig in. “Oh Merlin,” he moaned, “I didn’t know how starving I was!”

Dean shook his head, “Didn’t think you got much chance to eat today.”

“Got that right,” nodded Seamus. “Was rushed off my feet all day, so I couldn’t do much paperwork. Hopefully tomorrow I can catch up on my paperwork, otherwise I’m gonna have to do it over the weekend.”

They continued eating dinner in silence. Dean, looking at the still soot-covered face of his partner, was reminded of the boy he first met ten years ago on the Hogwarts Express. A boy, who right through school, caused explosions left, right and centre, and would often look back at Dean with a sheepish grin on his soot-covered face. But the man sat beside him was, while still loud, talkative, mischievous and a great friend, he was more serious now. The Seamus from school would never try to complete paperwork until the last moment. Dean figured it was being at Hogwarts for his seventh year with the Carrows, which had made Seamus more serious.

Every day he would see flashes of the boy from before that terror-filled year, but recently those flashes had come less and less. Seamus was working so hard Dean worried that he’d collapse from exhaustion. He knew Seamus’ sleep over the past two months had been disturbed by nightmares, but Seamus always hid them from him, and he didn’t know how to bring them up to Seamus. Back in eighth year, was the one and only time Seamus told him about one of his nightmares, and it seemed to help, until now.

He worried that his boyfriend was slowly slipping away from him and he didn’t know what to do, apart from the Battle of Hogwarts, Dean had no idea what Seamus had seen during those months. From the corner of his eye he watched as Seamus rubbed his left knee.

Dean flinched, during the Battle after Voldemort had made his way to the castle, a Death Eater had cast a spell badly injuring Seamus’ knee, to top it off, a wall exploded and broke Seamus’ ankle on his left leg. It had been painful for Dean to watch as Madam Pomfrey had healed Seamus’ injuries. It had been hard for Seamus, trying to walk with his left leg injured in two places. Sometimes, mainly in bad weather, the pain returned so sharply Seamus would limp for days until Dean forced him to rest in bed.

Soon dinner was finished and Dean quickly caught the plate that was slipping from Seamus’ slack grip. Seamus smiled and then made his way to the bathroom, ten minutes later after clearing up Dean made his way to the bathroom, where he found Seamus tiredly stood in front of the sink filled with water, trying to wash away the soot from his face and hair. Dean leaned against the doorframe to watch, when, in his exhaustion, Seamus leaned forward too much and ended up drenching his hair. Dean, taking pity on his boyfriend, sat Seamus down on the edge of the bath and towel dried his hair and then grabbed a flannel and cleaned away the soot from his face.

Together they then made their way to their bedroom, Seamus shuffling his feet and with his eyes half closed. After fighting with his pyjamas and the covers Seamus was comfortable and asleep before Dean joined him. Smiling fondly at his sleeping boyfriend, Dean turned off the lamp and wrapped his arms around Seamus. The steady breaths of his partner soon lulled Dean to sleep.

* * *

 

The next morning, Dean awoke to the sounds of Seamus moving about the flat. He looked at his watch and was relieved to see that Seamus was getting ready for work at the usual time. He got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen and was dismayed to notice that Seamus still looked tired.

“Morning,” greeted Seamus, from his usual seat at the table, and between sips of his coffee.

“Morning,” responded Dean, he leaned over and kissed his boyfriend, before sitting across from him. Looking into Seamus’ almost blank eyes, Dean figured at some point Seamus had had another nightmare that night. He was saddened that Seamus felt he had to hide his nightmares. “Are you okay? You look tired.”

Seamus smiled, but it was nowhere near his usual bright smile, “Just can’t have caught up with sleep. I’ll be better after the weekend.”

Dean sighed, “Seamus-”

“I’m fine,” Seamus sharply interjected, his grip tightening around his mug and staring down at the table.

“Look, it’s not weak to admit you’re having nightmares,” continued Dean.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” stressed Seamus sharply looking up at Dean, looking into the Irishman’s eyes, Dean could see that Seamus wasn’t only desperate to convince Dean of this, he was also trying to convince himself. Dean had to hold himself back from arguing against this, but he didn’t want Seamus to go to work after an argument so he let it go. For now.

They chatted about little things for the next few minutes, about how Dean was going to the muggle art gallery he sometimes did pieces of art for, and how Seamus was going to see Agnes Harper on one of the wards. Agnes was a witch in her mid seventies and quite often came to St. Mungos for various treatments, after seeing her so often Seamus had grown quite fond of the old witch who reminded him of his own Finnigan grandmother.

At five to eight, Seamus got up and put his mug into sink, he picked up his shoulder bag and slung it across his shoulders. He kissed Dean and then turned on the spot and disappeared with a crack. Dean sighed and buried his face in his hands, he didn’t know what to do, he knew Seamus had to talk about his nightmares, but the Irishman was so stubborn and refused to talk.

The day passed slowly for Dean who was worried about his boyfriend, and hoped that Seamus had a quiet day. Not wanting Seamus to have to do his paperwork over the weekend and not catch up on his sleep. He soon had a shock when he was told himself and another three artists were being given the opportunity to fly out to Asia to study art out there, for a month. Ordinarily, this would have excited Dean to no end, but right now with Seamus working himself to the bone, he didn’t know if he should go. So he decided to ask Seamus that evening, but if he admitted it to himself, he knew Seamus would encourage him to go.

Seamus, for once in the past month, was having quite an easy day. Around noon he made his way to the ward where Agnes was placed and spotting the witch sat up in her bed, he walked over and sat in the chair beside her bed.

“Ah! If it isn’t my favourite healer!” grinned Agnes.

Seamus shook his head and chuckled, “Time for my favourite patient!”

Agnes tsked, “I’m sure a handsome lad like yourself says that to all your patients.”

“Are you sure you don’t call all your healers your favourite?” asked Seamus, with one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed.

“Now don’t get cheeky!” admonished Agnes with a teasing glare.

Seamus looked at the old woman with her shoulder length grey hair, and noticed that she was paler than normal. “How are you feeling today Agnes?”

“Oh right as rain dear,” replied Agnes with a smile.

“Now,” commented Seamus seriously, “Would you tell me that even if you weren’t ‘feeling right as rain’?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Agnes with a twinkle in her eyes, “I could never lie to you lad!”

“Uh huh,” grinned Seamus. He always looked forward to his visits with Agnes, with her sharp tongue and wit he was never in for a dull visit. Even if he wasn’t scheduled to see Agnes, whenever she was in hospital he always made sure to come to see her, the poor woman had lost her husband and son during the first wizarding war, and so had no other regular visitors. “You’re looking a little pale Agnes, are you sleeping alright?”

“Yes I am, I had the most pleasant dream last night,” she smiled. Seamus nodded, and then she turned her sharp eyes on Seamus and took in his own pale face and tired eyes. “Are you sure you’re sleeping alright lad? You’re looking as if you need a lie down in the bed next to mine.”

Seamus mock gasped, “I hope that wasn’t an offer Agnes, I don’t know what my boyfriend would say!”

Agnes glared and reached over to smack his arm, “ Oi! You cheeky blighter!”

Laughing Seamus rubbed his arm, seeing Agnes’ look Seamus calmed down and said, “I’m fine.”

“ _Right_ ,” stressed Agnes. “I know something is bothering you lad, why don’t talk about it to your Dean. I’m sure he’d help you sort out whatever it is.”

Seamus sighed and looked down at his hands, “I just don’t want to worry him.”

Agnes reached over and patted his hand. “I know I only met Dean once, but I’m pretty sure he’ll already be worried because you haven’t told him anything.”

He sighed again and nodded, he had to admit he had almost told Dean that morning what his nightmares had been filled with. If Dean had kept on pressing Seamus probably would have spilled everything, but thankfully Dean had dropped the subject. He knew he had to talk about it, but seeing the worried and terrified look on Dean’s face back in eighth year after he told him about his nightmare of a particularly brutal detention, Seamus had vowed never to tell Dean anything from that year again.

“I’ll speak to him,” murmured Seamus.

Agnes nodded, “Good.” She then stared at him, “You better not lie to me lad.”

“I could never lie to you Agnes!” protested Seamus.

“Too right,” smiled Agnes.

Seamus then spent another half an hour chatting to Agnes before he went to grab a quick lunch. Telling himself that that evening he would tell Dean everything that had been haunting him for the past two months.

* * *

 

Seamus arrived home after Dean, before apparating home he sucked in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to talk to Dean just as he had promised Agnes. However, Seamus’ plan didn’t quite go how he expected. As he apparated into the sitting room, he was faced with Dean sat on the sofa facing him with a worried on his face.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” asked Seamus, silently panicking about what possibly could have happened. He found himself unable to move and so he remained standing looking down into Dean’s eyes.

Sighing, Dean began to say; “I’ve been given the opportunity, with three other artists, to fly out to Asia to study art there.”

“Why are you looking so worried then?” asked Seamus with a frown, “That sounds amazing.”

Dean looked up at him with an unreadable expression, “I’ll be gone for a month, and we’ll be going on Tuesday.”

Seamus stood frozen in shock, with one thought. _I can’t possibly tell him now; it’ll only make him worry while he’s gone. I can’t do that too him. Come on Seamus you’ve lasted two months without saying anything, you can go another month. Hey, maybe everything will be better by the time he comes back, and you won’t ever have to tell him about that year. Oh who am I kidding? Without Dean here, the one person who keeps me grounded after nightmares, I’ll go mad._

Dean looked up at Seamus’ stunned expression, seeing the dark circles under his eyes and the dimness of his eyes. Dean made his mind up, he wouldn’t go. How could he? When Seamus was so obviously struggling with his nightmares.

“It’s okay Seamus, I won’t go,” he commented with a small smile and a shrug. Yes he would have loved to go, but Seamus had to come first, just like when he refused to take Seamus on the run with him.

“No! Don’t you bloody do that!” exclaimed Seamus, some of the old fire blazing in his eyes. “No, you’re going, I know for a _fact_ that is something you’d love to do. So you’re bloody going to Asia on Tuesday!”

Dean gaped up at his boyfriend, “But Shay-”

“Oh don’t you ‘Shay’ me!” interrupted Seamus in frustration. “That’s something you’d love to do, so why, for Merlin’s sake, are you saying you won’t go?!”

Now Dean hesitated, he knew he was treading on thin ice. If he so much as hinted that he didn’t want to go because he was worried about Seamus and his nightmares, then his boyfriend would go on the defensive and could possibly ignite an argument between them, that could very well last until at least Monday.

“I just…I just thought that with you being run ragged at work, that I’d stay to make sure you were eating.” Dean commented. _That’s safe, that’s not mentioning his lack of sleep, that’s a safe answer, he can’t get angry with that._

“ _What?!_ ”

_Or maybe not._

“Are you _kidding me_!” Snapped Seamus. “I’m twenty-one for Merlin’s sake! I can bloody well look after myself for a month! Even if I am being ‘run ragged’. “

“I’m just worried about you!” countered Dean, rising to his feet and meeting the angry gaze of his boyfriend. Looking closely he could swear that to some extent Seamus was arguing for him to go so he wouldn’t have to talk about his nightmares.

“ _I’m fine_ ,” Seamus forced out through gritted teeth.

“Oh there it is again! No, you’re not bloody fine!” exploded Dean. _So much for avoiding an argument_.

“What would you know?” growled Seamus, his hands clenched into fists.

“I know you’re loosing sleep because of nightmares!” Dean snapped, “Which would get better if you just stopped being so _bloody stubborn_ and talked about them!”

“To who?” shouted Seamus; “No one cares about that year anymore! Everyone has moved on from the war! They won’t want to hear me talk about what happened!”

Dean froze momentarily in hurt. He had meant for Seamus to tell him, but Seamus didn’t even seem to consider talking to Dean. His best mate and boyfriend.

Seamus saw Dean’s hurt look, and hated that he put it there, but the look on Dean’s face back in eighth year had been worse. He wouldn’t upset Dean like that again, so this had to be done, as painful as this argument was. Dean could never find out what Seamus had had to go through in seventh year.

“What about me?” asked Dean softly, “Why can’t you talk about it to me? Like you did in eighth year.”

“Because that was about the Battle, which you saw and lived through.” Responded Seamus curtly, trying to keep some form of frustration in his voice, otherwise Dean would know he was purposely doing this. “These nightmares I’m having are about the school year. You weren’t there, you wouldn’t _understand_ what we had to live through everyday.”

Dean gasped; he stood wide-eyed staring at Seamus. Then anger began to build, “Being in hiding was easy you know,” he snapped.

“I get that,” shrugged Seamus, “It’s why I never asked you about it, because I wouldn’t be able to understand. Which is why I left you to talk through it with Luna and Mr Ollivander, they would understand it whereas I couldn’t.”

There was some truth to that, but what Seamus had left out was, he was so afraid of asking Dean the wrong question or saying the wrong thing, and seeing how talking to Luna and Mr Ollivander helped. He left the topic alone, as he knew how frustrating it was to have someone constantly ask you the wrong thing, just as his poor mother found out when he finally snapped at her over the summer between seventh and eighth year.

“So that’s it,” commented Dean with a shake of his head and a lump in his throat. “You’ll never talk to me about it?”

“Nope,” responded Seamus, struggling to keep his voice even.

Dean shook his head and then stormed into their room, slamming the door. Leaving Seamus to slump down on the sofa with his head in his hands. He hated what he’d done, but he knew Dean would only feel guilty to some extent. Dean had told him to go back to Hogwarts that year, and look how that turned out. He knew this is what Dean would think because Dean had said as much when they reunited before the Battle.

They spent the rest of the weekend avoiding each other, Dean hiding in the spare room, which acted as his studio and Seamus sleeping on the sofa. Dean out of hurt and Seamus knowing that right now he’d only make things worse.

When Tuesday morning rolled around Seamus was almost relieved when he got called in early. He peaked into their bedroom and watched for a minute as Dean slept. Quietly he crept into the room and placed a note for Dean on the bedside table. Then in the sitting room he disappeared with a crack.

Three hours later when Dean woke, he found the note. It simply read:

_I know I should have done this face to face, but I’ve been called in early._

_I’m so sorry Dean._

_For everything._

_Love Seamus._

Dean’s eyes stung with tears, he didn’t have much time, as he was going to Asia with muggles, it meant he had to go to the airport. So he resolved to write a letter to Seamus at the airport once he’d checked in and would send it to Seamus.

A part of him knew that Seamus had caused the argument to convince him to go and not spend the month worrying, but another part of Dean was worried. He worried that Seamus actually thought he wouldn’t understand and ask the wrong question or say the wrong thing, Seamus had told him how he’d snapped at his mother and Dean had vowed to not say anything until Seamus came to him first.

What neither of them fully understood, was that each of them was only trying to help the other, and protect them from hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second and last part to the story, thank you all so much for reading!

Dean had been gone for a week and already Seamus felt like he was slowly loosing his mind. Every night he’d woken from a nightmare, however, instead of only waking with a gasp, something that had allowed him to hide his nightmares from Dean in the past.

Now he was waking with a terrified scream. He’d look to the right side of the bed, to take in the comforting sight of his sleeping boyfriend, but that side was empty. With his nightmare still clawing onto parts of his conscious, he’d think for a few terrifying moments that Dean had been lost in the war and the three years after it were all a dream.

When he’d fully wake up and remember Dean was in Asia, he’d regret convincing Dean to go, realising that Dean had been right. He did need to talk about what was haunting him. However, he could only talk to Dean, talking to anyone else would be a betrayal of their friendship and love, but he couldn’t talk about it in a letter. So he resigned himself to three more weeks of torture.

The letter Dean sent him from the airport sat on the bedside table, where he could re-read it after his nightmares, if he couldn’t have Dean with him, he’d have his words.

_Seamus,_

_I forgive you, but I need to apologise as well. It wasn’t right for me too push you like that. When you feel ready to talk, whether that’s in a month or a decade, I will be here to listen to you. I understand that its hard for you, I just hate seeing that haunted look in your eyes, I want to hug you, to comfort you, but you say your fine, and deep down I know you’re not only trying to convince me. You’re trying to convince yourself. We will get through this, I know we will. We got through the aftermath of the war and that terrible year apart, so I know without a doubt we’ll get through this._

_I hope you’re not working too hard, never thought I’d say that to you ha ha, but seriously Shay, you’re an amazing healer, I just don’t want you to make yourself ill or exhausted. And no blowing up the kitchen!_

_I miss you and look forward to coming home._

_Love Dean._

The edges of the letter had become crumpled from where Seamus had gripped it with dear life. Work was stressful, and his nightmares not only haunted his sleep, but his waking moments as well.

He needed Dean; otherwise he didn’t know what he would do. Go mad probably.

* * *

 

Dean was enjoying Asia, but he was still worried about Seamus. They’d exchanged some letters, but the international wizarding post, while quicker than the muggle alternative, was still very slow and so Dean (and Seamus back in Britain) had resigned himself to little or no letters from his boyfriend. The last letter he’d had from Seamus troubled him, the words didn’t. The letter itself was filled with reassurances. However, the handwriting was shaky, and Seamus’ usual neat handwriting, only got shaky when Seamus was stressed or worried about something.

What Dean wouldn’t give to be back home to reassure himself that Seamus was all right. Coming to Asia had been a mistake, he should have sorted everything out with Seamus first and then, even if it were months later, he would have travelled to Asia.

After the war, Seamus had been there for him, helping him readjust to a life not on the run. Seamus had not only helped Dean, he’d helped everyone who needed it once they were back at Hogwarts for their eighth year. Dean had tried to be there for Seamus, but his best friend was all smiles and jokes, and Dean was only aware of a few nightmares before Seamus talked to him that one time. He thought Seamus was all right, when really; Seamus was one of the ones who needed help the most, after taking a leadership role with Neville in seventh year. Seamus had suffered more than those he helped, but Dean had just assumed that helping people was Seamus’ way of coping with what had happened.

Looking back now though, Dean realized that he should have gotten Seamus to open up a long time ago. Then perhaps his boyfriend wouldn’t be suffering like he was now.

Dean was stretched out on his hotel bed, staring at a photograph of him and Seamus, taken in their sixth year. Back then they had no idea what was coming their way. He gently ran his thumb over the Seamus in the photo; Seamus was grasping onto Dean’s arm, holding himself up, as his head was thrown back in laughter, tears streaming down his face.

While Seamus still laughed, not presently though, it was never as carefree as in the photo. That was something else Dean had to adjust to once the war was over, to not see his best friend laugh so freely and joyfully had been saddening, but he had to acknowledge that no one was as they once were.

He rested the photo on his bedside table and stared at it until the next thing he knew was waking up in the sunlit room, still facing that precious photo. Once he got home, he was determined that he was going to help Seamus, and then hopefully he’d one day get to hear Seamus’ loud carefree laughter again.

He was counting down the days until he could go home.

* * *

 

Today was the day Dean was coming home. Seamus had booked two weeks off work, starting the next day, to spend time with his boyfriend. Partly to make up for the month apart, and partly to sort out the argument between them and the problem of his nightmares.

It was two hours until his shift was over and Seamus headed up to see Agnes, who he’d not been able to see apart from a few handful of times and who had not been doing well over the past month. He approached the old witch’s bed and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

“Hello Agnes,” he greeted,

“Seamus,” she smiled, “Come to sit and talk properly this time have we?”

“Yes I have, sorry to say I’ve been very busy the last month,” he responded.

Agnes’ eyes narrowed, she took in his rumpled condition and said, “I hope you weren’t fibbing to me when you said you were going to talk to Dean. You look worn out lad, and not from being kept busy, but from lack of sleep.”

Seamus sighed, “I wasn’t fibbing, its just…Dean went to Asia the Tuesday following the day I talked to you. And that night we got into a massive row, because I didn’t want to tell him about my nightmares before he left. He was going for a month, back today, and I figured I’d tell him once he got back. Booked two weeks off work and everything.”

Agnes nodded and slowly patted his hand, “I understand lad, and I’m glad you’ve got time off work to sort everything out. I hate to see you so troubled.” She broke off into a coughing fit that had her wheezing for breath.

Alarmed Seamus stood and rubbed her back soothingly and then passed her a glass of water. “All right now Agnes?”

“Never better, lad.” She smiled.

Seamus retook his seat and chatted to Agnes before she fell asleep. Standing, he then tucked the blankets more securely around her and made his way over to the ward desk. There sat Healer Roberts, a middle-aged wizard with black, slowly turning grey hair.

“How is Agnes doing?” he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

Roberts sighed, “To be honest Finnigan, I don’t see her lasting a week more. Her body is tired from fighting all the illnesses she’s had.”

Seamus nodded, the backs of his eyes prickling with tears. He cleared his throat, “Thanks, keep me posted okay?”

“I will,” promised Roberts with a sympathetic look.

Then Seamus cast one more look back at Agnes before he left the ward heading towards his own office. Trying to block out the thought of Agnes dying, he’d grown close to her, and not only that, his Finnigan grandmother was the same age as Agnes. As horrible it was for Agnes to be dying, it was worse for him to picture his grandmother instead.

He clenched his hands into fists, and gritted his teeth. Beyond thankful that Dean was coming home today.

 _Oh what a great welcome home this’ll be._ Seamus thought to himself bitterly. _Dean’s been gone a month, and whenever he’s been away he relishes coming home. And now you’re just going to spoil everything with your problems. Guess the award for worst boyfriend would go to you Finnigan._

* * *

 

Dean arrived home and found Seamus just dishing up dinner, pasta and a tomato sauce. His boyfriend turned and looked at him nervously, and Dean saw why. If he thought Seamus looked exhausted a month ago, it was nothing compared to now, the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent, he looked paler, no life in his eyes and his clothes were rumbled. But seeing the nervous look on Seamus’ face, Dean decided to not bring up their argument that night, it would only spoil everything.

So Dean surged forward and kissed Seamus hard, encircling the Irishman tightly in his arms. Then they just stood there for a moment, leaning against each other enjoying the presence of the one they had missed for a month, before turning to eat their dinner. Dean noticed Seamus open his mouth a few times, as if he was going to say something, but then the words just wouldn’t come out.

“I’ve got the next two weeks off,” murmured Seamus,

“It’ll be nice to spend time together, that was a great idea,” he smiled comfortingly; he hated whenever Seamus became nervous and unsure, and hated it even more when he was the cause.

Soon a conversation started and the silence was over. After washing the dishes they made their way into the living room, when Seamus’ manner changed.

“Look Dean, I’m going to try and talk to you about…well…you know, so just bear with me while I try and get the words out,” said Seamus, his blue eyes boring into Dean’s brown ones.

“Okay,” nodded Dean, “But can I just ask, why did you feel you couldn’t tell me this before?”

Seamus’ eyes widened, and then he calmed himself and shook his head. “That doesn’t matter, what does is that I’ve finally sucked up enough Gryffindor courage to tell you about seventh year.”

Dean nodded, a bit disappointed that he would never find out why Seamus would never tell him anything. Part of him upset that Seamus may have been truthful in their argument; in that he felt Dean couldn’t understand.

Just as Seamus opened his mouth, Roberts’ face appeared in their fireplace.

“Finnigan. You’re needed at St. Mungos,” he barked out in a rush.

Seamus, frowning, got up and knelt before the grate. “I’m on holiday now, surely someone else on call could go.”

Roberts shook his head, “I think you’re going to want to come in.”

Seamus cast a glance back at a confused looking Dean, “Why?”

“Its Agnes,” sighed Roberts sadly.

In his shock, Seamus fell back to a sitting position, his eyes wide. “A…A…Agnes?”

“I’m afraid so,” murmured Roberts, “I don’t think she’s going to last the night. Will you come?”

Seamus turned back to look at Dean. Dean stood up and knelt beside Seamus, “Go. I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“You sure?” whispered Seamus; looking up into the caring brown eyes he loved so much. “You’ve not been back that long.”

Dean rested a hand on the Irishman’s shoulder, “Yes. Just go. I know how much you care about her. So go.”

Seamus leaned up to quickly kiss Dean, and then he was climbing into the grate and suddenly was gone. Dean remained where he was, sadly looking at the fireplace. Hoping against hope that Agnes suddenly got better, he’d only met her once, but had instantly liked her. Not only that, loosing Agnes would just be another blow for Seamus.

* * *

 

Three hours later, Seamus was sat in his usual chair beside Agnes’ bed, clutching her hand. Ten minutes ago Agnes had passed on, with one more smile and piece of advice for Seamus.

_“Don’t just tell Dean about your nightmares. Let him help you through them. Soon they’ll stop and the two of you will come out stronger for it.”_

Still he sat there, holding her hand, with tear filled eyes, remembering all the jokes and stories passed between them. Roberts came and offered some words of comfort, and then Seamus turned and left, apparating home.

He arrived to find Dean waiting for him on the sofa. One look at Seamus’ wide and tear filled eyes, told Dean all he needed to know. He was up off the sofa and brought Seamus in for a tight and comforting hug.

Once they were snuggled up in bed, Seamus quietly whispered. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t much of a welcome home.”

“Don’t worry about that, love,” murmured Dean, his arms still enclosed around Seamus, looking at the saddened face in front of him. “This is nothing to be sorry for.”

* * *

 

The next day, Seamus woke up feeling numb. This time not from nightmares, but from seeing Agnes pass, again and again in his dreams. So in way, his night was disturbed by nightmares, just not the usual ones. Her death was almost as bad as watching his friends die at the Battle of Hogwarts. She’d spent the past four years fighting numerous illnesses, and had beaten them all, but her body was too exhausted to continue living. It was painful to watch as the life bled out of Agnes, and Seamus, powerless to stop it, could only sit there and hold her hand. He hated feeling useless, he’d spent his entire seventh year fighting against the Carrows, standing up to them for his friends and the younger kids, to feel useful. Seamus hated being rendered useless, but that was all he was for poor Agnes last night.

Seeing how upset Seamus was about Agnes, Dean didn’t bring up the topic of Seamus’ nightmares. Instead, he just pottered around the flat, creating comforting, homely noises for Seamus not to be lost in the silence. Seamus lay on the sofa all day, and would smile a little to himself, knowing what Dean was doing for him. He had missed the noises Dean would make around the flat during the month they’d spent apart. The silence had been pressing on him, making everything worse. _Now it will only be better_ , he told himself. Remembering his promise to Agnes to talk to Dean.

* * *

 

It was the second day of Seamus’ two weeks off and Dean had popped out to the shop leaving Seamus stretched out on the sofa. When Dean returned his heart twisted in pain. Seamus had fallen asleep and was obviously in the grips of a nightmare.

Seamus was twisting and turning, muttering, gripping the pillows of the sofa. As Dean rushed over, Seamus’ mutterings became louder, and tore at Dean’s heartstrings.

“No. Stop. _Please stop!_ I don’t know anything. _I don’t know! Stop!_ ”

Not for the first time Dean felt the need to rip the Carrows apart limb from limb. He reached Seamus’ side and whispered soothing nonsense to his boyfriend and gently rubbed up and down his arm, and ran fingers through the sandy hair. “You’re not there anymore love, you’re not there.”

“Leave them alone!” snapped Seamus, “ _No! Colin!_ Listen to me! _They don’t know anything!_ ”

“Shay, come back to me love. You’re safe, you’re not there anymore,” murmured Dean, trying to hold back tears.

Suddenly with a gasp and tears streaming down his face, Seamus sat up shaking. Dean sat in front of him and wiped away the tears and tried to meet the gaze of the blue eyes that were staring blankly ahead at nothing. “Shay?”

Seamus blinked and met Dean’s eyes. His face crumpled and then he hid his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” sobbed Seamus.

“Hey, hey. You’ve got _nothing_ to be sorry for.” Interrupted Dean firmly, as he brought Seamus in for a bone-crushing hug.

Gasping Seamus choked out, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you.”

Dean closed his eyes in silent pain and buried his face into Seamus’ sandy hair. “ _Oh Seamus_ ,” he whispered.

“I thought I could deal with it,” sobbed Seamus, “But I couldn’t! It only got worse, and the worse it got, the harder it got to try and say anything! And you weren’t here and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else.”

Dean began to silently cry and murmured, “I shouldn’t have left.”

Seamus shot backwards to stare at Dean, “Yes you should have! You _wanted_ to go!”

“But you needed me here,” countered Dean, his teary brown eyes boring into the tear filled blue ones of his boyfriend.

Seamus looked at Dean with tired eyes, “I knew how much you wanted to go, I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“You could _never_ hold me back,” Dean said fiercely as he hugged Seamus tightly.

They sat there, huddled together, Dean stretched out on the sofa with Seamus tucked into his side. Dean clutched Seamus to him as his boyfriend slowly and haltingly began to tell him what his seventh year had been like. Their shoulders would occasionally shake with silent sobs and their tears mixed as their cheeks pressed together.

The Dark Arts lessons that involved practicing curses on each other, or even practising the Cruciatus curse on first years, or the painful ‘punishments’ for refusing to cast the curses.

How the other Professors tried to protect them, but ultimately failed and would have to watch as their students were ‘punished’ in the corridors.

When a Slytherin with a grudge against them, would make up a lie, and how the Carrows would ‘punish’ them for daring to cross a pureblood Slytherin.

The beatings and curses, which left bruises and scars.

Having to watch as his friends. Neville, Ginny, Lavender, Cho, Colin and many others, were tortured in front of him for ‘detention’, and he himself, tortured in front of them.

The cold nights stuck in the damp dungeons.

The screams, from pained and terrified students, even three years later, that still echoed through Seamus’ head.

The haunted eyes of first years that grew up too fast.

The fear that Dean was dead and Seamus would never see him again.

The lack of hope that began to take hold throughout the castle, despite the DA’s best efforts.

The injuries Seamus had to heal for his friends and fellow DA members.

The injuries that his friends and fellow DA members had to heal for him.

Standing up for the younger students like Colin, only to see they had fallen in the Battle.

Seamus ended his tale with the relief he had felt when Dean found him after the Battle. How, despite his left leg on fire with agonising pain, was forgotten the moment he saw Dean.

“Oh Merlin Seamus,” choked Dean, his eyes blown wide with the surge of heartbreak he felt at hearing all his boyfriend had gone through. “I had no idea.”

Sighing, Seamus reluctantly moved out of Dean’s arms and stood up to face the fireplace. “I didn’t want you to know.”

“ _Why?”_ begged Dean sitting up to face Seamus’ back. Wanting and needing to know why Seamus, who usually told him everything, had kept silent for three years about this.

Seamus, with a bowed head, braced himself with his right arm on the mantle, and with his left hand, he ran it across his face and stared into the empty grate. “When I told you about that nightmare back in eighth year…I saw how upset and horrified you were and…I decided then…I decided that I would never tell you about that year again…”

Dean stared at Seamus’ back, not knowing what to feel. To know that Seamus had been suffering in silence all because he didn’t want to upset Dean again, in some ways that hurt. Dean had told himself, after coming out of hiding, and seeing all that Seamus and the DA had done to keep the students going, had promised to be there for his best friend. To know he failed hurt.

“ _Seamus_.”

“Yeah that’s me,” chuckled Seamus bitterly, “Seamus Finnigan, the one with stupid ideas, that later gets his friends ‘detention’ with the Carrows.” Seamus stared into the grate, both hands on the mantle, gripping it with a white knuckled grip. As much as he tried to block them out, the memories came rushing back, the fear, the pain, and the _screams_.

He jumped when a pair of hands rested on his shoulders. He sucked in a shaky breath, determined not to cry anymore. He had to be strong. He couldn’t let Dean feel guilty for him not saying anything.

“Seamus,” murmured Dean, he slowly reached under Seamus’ arms and loosened his grip on the mantle. Then gently he turned his boyfriend to face him, and then he cupped Seamus’ cheeks with his hands making the haunted blue eyes meet his own caring brown eyes. “I know you were only trying to help me, but _please_ promise me. Don’t hide this from me again. I’m here for you, just as you are for me. So _please, please_ let me in.”

Seamus’ eyes filled with tears and then he leaned forward and buried his face into the base of Dean’s neck. “I promise, Dean. I promise,” sniffled Seamus.

Dean tightened his arms around Seamus, and buried his face into the sandy mess of Seamus’ hair. “I’m here, Shay. You are not alone.”

* * *

 

For the next week Seamus was still plagued with nightmares, however this week, if he awoke first, he would hesitantly shake Dean awake. Then Dean would sit up with him, until Seamus felt he could go back to sleep.

To start with Dean felt guilty. Seamus’ nightmares seemed to be worse since he had told him what had happened that year. Some nights Seamus would be woken by two or more nightmares. Seeing the haunted look in the blue eyes that usually shinned with mirth was heart wrenching. However, soon Seamus started to sleep through the night, and with full nights of sleep, slowly the haunted look began to fade.

One morning, halfway through Seamus’ second week off. Dean slowly awoke, and turned to his left and was met with a sight that warmed his heart. There was Seamus, still deeply asleep, and not only that, with a peaceful look on his face.

He reached out and softly carded his fingers through Seamus’ hair, and then he leaned forward to snuggle against his boyfriend, and planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. Two hours later, a pair of sleepy blue eyes looked back at him.

“Good morning,” smiled Dean.

“It will be if you make pancakes,” grinned Seamus, with a blinding carefree grin and eyes filled with mischief.

Dean fought to keep the tears pricking at his eyes at bay. This was the first time in three years he’d seen the Seamus from before, the old Seamus, like the one in the photo from their sixth year.

Seamus, seeing Dean’s slowly filling eyes, shifted forward and comfortingly hugged Dean. “Hey, everything’s okay.”

Nodding Dean kissed Seamus, knowing that now, everything really would be okay. Seamus was back, and they would only be stronger after this, they could weather any storm.

**The End.**


End file.
